


resplendent

by lusterrdust



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Love, NSFW, OTP Feels, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:53:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9919817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusterrdust/pseuds/lusterrdust
Summary: "A bright light all her own, his shadows are drenched in her radiance." [bughead, betty/jughead, nsfw]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> here's some adult bughead.
> 
> unbeta'd - nsfw - don't like? don't read; easy peasy.

 

 

 

 

  _▱◯♕_

> _"I need a man who looks at me, as I lie before him, and thinks to himself, 'what kind of noises would I like her to make today?'"  
>  -Ellie Prose_

_◯_

 

_It's more than touch._

Timid hands caressing pale skin and leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

_It's more than touch._

Two pairs of eyes holding heady gazes until blue is hidden by the fluttering of lids. His breath staggers when she rolls on top of him, straddling his bare waist and leaving any sense of comprehension a puddled mess in the shadows of his mind.

"Is this okay, Juggie?" Betty asks breathlessly, bowing her back when his hands reach out to rest on the flair of her hips.

_It's more than touch._

She doesn't move until he gives a shaky nod, that of which is followed by a groan when she begins to ride his body in a sinfully raw manner he swears no good girl like her should know how to do.

"B-Betts—"

Her palms splay across his bare chest, slipping with the thin sheen of sweat on it. There's a small moment to laugh softly at the disruption it causes to their rhythm before she slips smoothly back into bedroom femme fatale.

_It's more than touch._

Their second time together, there's much more pleasure in this union. While there were no regrets their first time together, there'd been countless awkward giggles and cautious timidity.

But now…

Betty's head falls back as she swivels her hips a certain way before a keening gasp tumbles from her lips in a throaty manner.

Jughead's mesmerized by the motion of her body on his. His eyes glaze over as he stares at silky smooth tresses of blonde bouncing in unison with her pert breasts.

She's art.

A flawless marbled piece by Donatello.

A painting by Van Gogh.

His very own yellow and blue 'Starry Night'. Betty's all shades of blonde and pink, with rosy lips and nipples that taste like rainwater and the buttercream frosting spritz she sprays over herself daily.

But her eyes—powder blue and filled with more compassion and love he's had directed at him his whole life—they flicker back down to his own, and the look alone forces him to jerk upward, using the fingers dug into the flesh of her curved backside to drag her against him in a rough manner.

He swells inside her, feeling a slow ascend into the only spiritual enlightenment he's ever reached. In Betty alone, he finds pure exultation.

"J-Jughead," she moans breathlessly, falling against his chest as her hips quicken in a fervid pace.

_It's more than touch._

Jughead cups her face and brings her lips to his own, giving a sloppy kiss that has them chuckling into one another's mouth before he flips her onto her back and pushes her into the dingy mattress.

He's never been a drinker but Jughead swears Betty Cooper is liquor disguised as water.

Pure. Thirst quenching.

But she's not.

Instead, she's raw. She leaves him disoriented, parched—needing more. _Craving_ more. He's insatiable to her spirit.

Her head dips back, giving him the canvas of her slicked neck for his tongue to paint silent promises on.

How can she be the only person to bring him here—to this state of unruliness? Jughead's content with his apathetic nature. He's comfortable with the zero fucks given toward society's categorization of his teenaged male self. He's been touched by women before—accidental grazes and forced tight quarters.

But one incident in being inside a place they shouldn't have for a senior special exposé for their school paper stirred something foreign inside him.

He remembers the scarlet flush of her neck and cheeks as they pressed up against one another in the small foot space of Weatherby's desk.

He remembers shamefully wondering if it ran all the way down and past the neckline of her maroon colored blouse.

He was more than pleased to find out it does – demonstrated now with the blossom of red spread across her breasts and to the dip of her navel.

Jughead's tongue leaves a trail along it before Betty's fingers dig themselves into his hair, pushing the already haphazard beanie crown off his head. The soft material tickles his flesh as it falls onto the bed beneath them, but Jughead keeps his strides rhythmic.

_It's more than touch._

"I love you, _"_ Betty whimpers in what almost sounds like a sob.

But she's far from upset.

Her words carve themselves in his already hammering heart and his head dips into the curve of her neck, kissing the mark forming there tenderly before he moves up to capture her lips, devouring her like a starved man.

"I l-love—" she starts before pinching her eyes shut, her words catching in the back of her throat at a sharp thrust.

"-love you," he grunts into her mouth, feeling his pleasure spike when he notices the early signs to her climax. "Betty,"

Betty moans long and tremulous as his fingers move between them, bringing her closer, faster.

"Look at me." Jughead demands with ragged breathing, needing to see her eyes when she reaches ecstasy.

She obeys, staring at him with glossy eyes and a lidded gaze. Her swollen lips stay parted, panting short breaths and whines as he quickens his pace.

Damn the sun and the stars he thinks, staring at the woman below him. They're nothing in comparison to the beacon that is Betty Cooper.

A bright light all her own, his shadows are drenched in her radiance.

He's close.

So close.

Jughead chants her name with awed reverence, enthralled by the way her lips form a silent ' _oh'_ before she's shuddering around him, digging crescent marks with her fingernails into the skin of his back and pulling him into her wave of nirvana within seconds.

When he falls to his side afterward, completely spent, she's tucking her head in the curve of his neck, tickling his cheek with her frizzy blonde strands.

_It's more than touch._

Betty glows afterward, and Jughead realizes _this_ is the best part of their unification: feeling her warm body lay peacefully against his own. Feeling the slow evening of her breath. Smelling the naturally sweet scent of her hair blend with the sharp aroma of their lovemaking. Seeing her lips curve in a delicate smile of absolute bliss.

_It's more than touch._

It's _this_.

It's them.

Plain and simple.

Him, and Betty Cooper, stareshine incarnate.


	2. warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jughead Jones is like the summer rain; warm, unexpected, but beautiful just the same." [bughead, nsfw]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd

▱◯♕

_"i fell in love with the world in you"  
-unknown_

◯

Jughead Jones is like the summer rain pitter-patting over the treehouse they’re laid inside of; warm, unexpected, but beautiful just the same.

His hair is like the oil stained on her fingers after hours of helping Archie work on his jeep earlier that day, stuck in disarray over the pale skin of his forehead and cheeks.

Betty watches as he takes his beanie crown and sticks it over the small entryway through the floor, wringing the excess water out onto the forest’s foliage below. Her eyes fall to the way his shirt plasters to his body like a second skin, and despite the shivering of her body, she feels hot.

“I guess we should’ve checked the weather app before hanging around the lake.” Jughead jokes wryly, tossing his still sopping beanie to the side before his eyes fall to her.

Betty feels her heart stutter the moment his eyes take in her own appearance, darkening at what she assumes is the very obvious fact that her nude lace bra is visible through her white go-to summer tee. Her fingers pull at the hems of her jean shorts and she tosses her shoes to the side of the small wooden alcove.

“The ominous looking clouds should’ve been our first clue.” She hides her nerves behind a joke, brushing wet tendrils fallen loose from her ponytail behind her ear.

She and Jughead have been dating for a few months and Betty can honestly say in that time there have been no shortage of tense situations like this. A crackling of energy between them, the sexual tension is tangible.

But regardless of how hard he denies the sentiment, Jughead’s a gentleman.

He’s never pressured her for more—not like other guys. He doesn’t make her feel bad for keeping things at a slow pace between them. He doesn’t push her to be someone she’s not and god, does she love him for that.

But now…

His stare alone stimulates her senses.

Betty feels puddled under heady blue-green eyes, and oh, why was his silence _always_ louder than the words he spoke?

Both hands pressed onto the floor, Jughead scoots himself closer to her and lifts his arms up to pull the elastic from her hair. Shrugging off his flannel, he bunches it in one hand to wrap it around her dripping locks, squeezing water out into it before tossing it aside with his beanie.

“Don’t want you getting sick.” He explains, though she doesn’t ask.

Few moments pass in heavy silence, just the sound of rain and wind around them.

Betty’s nearly winded at the way he looks at her. No one’s ever looked at her the way Jughead does. So raw, so _honest_.

She’s heard it said that eyes are the windows to the soul, but she’s never fully believed it until looking into Jughead’s. The usual guarded and apathetic Jughead Jones—he lets her in without even knowing, with just one look. Laid bare, he opens himself for her— _because_ of her.

“Betty,” his voice is lower and so quiet.

Betty shivers, feeling her eyelids flutter as her stomach coils with heat at the sound.

“I’m cold.” She whispers back, folding her arms over her chest before his hands stop her.

When he lowers his lips to hers, Betty wastes no time in pushing herself flush against him, keeping her lids shut despite feeling him stiffen with shock at her uncharacteristic forwardness. He recovers soon enough as his hands move up her arms, trying to warm her while drops of water fall from her skin and onto the floor. When her hands clasp together at the nape of his neck, she parts her mouth to taste him. And like everything about him, he lets her in wholly.

The temperature spikes between them as he groans into her mouth when her hands continue their journey up into his soaking hair.

“Juggie,” Betty breathes raggedly into his mouth, pulling away only slightly to catch his lidded gaze with her own. “I’m cold.” She repeats, shifting even closer to him until her legs stretch out over his thighs, wrapping around him in their sitting position.

She watches just a bit nervously as his adam’s apple bobs, his eyes flickering over her face for answers.

Acting before her courage leaves her, she grips the hem of her shirt and pulls it off before quickly unclasping her bra and shifting the atmosphere between them in a way that can’t be undone. Her bottom lip digs under the pressure of her teeth and she relishes in the slight sting of distraction from her raging butterflies it brings forth.

“You—I,” Jughead’s eyes are far wider than she’s ever seen them as they snap back up to her face.

To her relief, Betty realizes he’s just nervous and not repulsed as she’d timorously feared.

Swallowing the knot in her throat, she grabs his hand and places it on her left breast. Jughead’s cheeks flare pink as his hand stays rigid for a moment before tentatively cupping the puckered flesh. Betty watches with baited breath as he releases a ragged one and licks his lips.

Another shiver shoots down her spine, but for a different reason this time entirely. His thumb brushes across her peaked nipple, heightening the pleasure pooling in her abdomen.

“Are you—“

His words cut off the second she releases a high pitched and breathless moan at the experimental tweak he gives her.

And like the bust of a taut string in the air, the tension's snapped, and they collide with fervid passion.

Some of Jughead's timidity leaves as his hands continue their exploration on her chest, and Betty can only blink back the stars in her eyes.

They pet and kiss and clash until finally, they’re bare.

Bare with trust. Bare with brevity. Bare with their bodies and affection. Every part of Betty feels alive, from the inside out as if Jughead's taken a thread of her soul and unraveled her with just a tug. 

Her mind takes her back briefly to the days she and Jughead were younger, playing cards, reading books, and sharing stories with Archie in the very spot they were now about to give the most intimate parts of themselves to.

“I…” Jughead pauses above her, losing the fire that had been fueling their frenzied actions.

Feeling a rush of insecurity, Betty blinks up at him nervously. “What… what’s wrong? Do you-do you want to stop?”

Please don't, she thinks. 

“No!” Jughead replies with wide eyes, a bit louder than meant. Panting, he braces his arms on either side of her head, his wet hair dripping small drops of water on her neck. “N-no.” he repeats lower, “I just—I don’t have any protection...”

“Don’t guys always carry condoms?” Betty licks her lips, blinking with her large doe-eyes up at him.

Jughead furrows his brows, grimacing. “Well, believe it or not, sex isn’t always on my mind." he quips a bit curtly, "I didn’t exactly plan this all out.”

Betty runs her hand over his chest until it moves to rest on his cheek. “I know.” She tells him apologetically, knowing he’d taken her words differently than meant. “I know you’re not like other guys, Juggie. I’m sorry.”

The tension in his face eases instantly until his face drops with a disappointed groan onto her chest.

“Oh!” Betty exclaims, catching his gaze again. “I’m on birth control!”

Jughead’s face pinches. “...you are?”

“For… regulation.” She mumbles embarrassedly.

Yeah, period talk is a _great_ aphrodisiac.

“We could…" Her eyes flitter back to his as her face burns. "we could still… if you want, I mean—“

“I do!” he nods, swallowing thickly before an awkward silence falls over them. “Uh…”

“Here,” Betty breathes in deeply, eager to feel the fire again. She shifts her hips upward, grazing his swollen flesh and feeling a wave of lava at the hiss it elicits. Her head cranes up to catch Jughead in a languid kiss, bringing his hand back to her breast for him to knead before splaying hers over the stretch of his back.

They fumble for a few moments, trying to find the easiest way to just… _do it;_ but after a few giggles and encouraging words, they fit themselves together like the pieces of a puzzle.

If Betty were honest with herself in all the ways she pictured losing her virginity, never once had it been of it happening in a treehouse with Jughead Jones III.

It was always in a huge bed with fluffy pillows and candles and Archie Andrews.

But right now, as the pain quells with Jughead’s cautious movements, Betty couldn’t even tell you what Archie’s full name was. Her mind’s swept in the essence that is Jughead Jones. He smells like rain and pine, he tastes like the unsweetened tea they’d drank earlier, and he feels so, so good.

And what he makes _her_ feel—more than the pleasure—he makes her feel safe. Desired. Wanted. _Loved_.

She strives for perfection in her daily life, trying to be the best for everyone and everything only to fail time after time. But the look of reverence in his eyes as he leans down to kiss her and whisper words of adoration, Jughead makes her feel _more_ than perfect and it’s absolutely effortless.

Betty feels tears sting at the corners of her eyes, both with the now dulling pain in her and the absolute fullness of his affection. She’s consumed in the moment, gripping his back with both hands in a desperate attempt to pull him closer. She wants him under her skin, not just chest touching chest, but heart touching heart.

Betty wants all of him, every part.

“I-I love you,” she breathes out a low sob of exultation. “Jughead,”

If he’s shocked by the first confession of love spoken between them, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he groans deep and heavy, the sound tightening her stomach with molten lava and robbing any sensibility left in her mind away.

Outside, the rain falls harder, whipping leaves against the small wooden shelter like music with the howling wind; but inside, their breaths and low pants create a different song all on their own.

Jughead leans down to kiss the tear that falls from her eye and she buries her nose into his neck, feeling the rubber band pull tighter and tighter… she doesn’t want this moment to go. She holds out for its eternity. But her pleasure soon spikes, tipping her dream dangerously when the rough words, _“Betty, I’m-I’m close—“_ tumble from her lover’s lips.

His hand moves between them and the sensations it brings forth render her speechless.

“Is this—okay?” Jughead breathes cautiously, looking to her with darkened eyes.

Betty wants to say yes; in fact she wants to say it’s more than okay, it’s positively _sinful_ —; but all she manages is a strangled moan as the buzz of energy strums in her veins. Her fingers grip the hair at the nape of his neck tightly as she brings him down for a rough kiss. It’s sloppy and out of sync but god does it feel good. The friction between them feels… it feels…

The rubber band snaps, and the lava in her belly spreads over every nerve ending in her body like a rapid fire. Her cry of euphoria is swallowed by Jughead’s mouth as he shudders over her, trembling to keep himself upright as he follows her into the blissful sensation that is their climax.

When he pulls out and falls to his back with heavy breathing, Betty turns to her side and grabs the sleeping back rolled up at their feet, unzipping it and throwing it over them.

She takes a moment to clean herself with the panties she’s now going to have to burn and eventually curls herself into his side, inhaling his scent deeply as a wave of calm and bliss falls over her.

“Are you okay?” Jughead murmurs after a few moments of silence, looking at her with concern and the ruined panties by the wall. “Was I too…?”

“I’m better than okay, Jughead.” Betty whispers, smiling softly at him and radiating pure happiness. She gives a low chuckle and shakes her head, resting her palm over his chest. “I feel…” The thrum of his heart beating soothes her as she continues. “I feel whole... sorry," she giggles abashedly, "I know that’s corny,”

“No,” he interrupts with a soft smile of his own, taking her hand and tapping it lightly against his chest. “no, it’s not corny.”

Silence befalls them once more until Jughead’s head turns toward her, his brow furrowing slightly. “You said… you said you loved me.”

Betty’s cheek flare with heat as a rush of anxiety disrupts her peace. But she keeps her gaze steady and dives head first into the unknown before losing her nerve.

“I do.” She tells him with such quiet earnest that Jughead takes a moment to swallow the tightness of his throat it causes. “I love you, Jughead. You—you’re my best friend, and I just… I’m in love with you. And, I know we agreed to take things slow but I can’t help how I feel, and you don’t have to say it back, if you don’t—“

Her words are cut off as Jughead catches her in an fervent kiss, cupping her face and bunching the hair stuck there between his fingers. His tongue moves against hers with rough abandon and when he pull away suddenly, Betty has to take a moment to come back to comprehension. Her eyes blink at him through their stunned glaze. 

“Of course I love you, Betts... I love you,” Jughead tells her quietly, a pink blush of his own staining his cheeks before he moves to kiss her in a softer manner, drawing her closer to him as he repeats the words that make her heart soar and her body hum with light.

Jughead Jones is like the summer rain, she thinks, drinking him in; warm, unexpected, but beautiful just the same.


End file.
